Rebel Flags
by Horrorxxxgirl
Summary: An updated version of a previous fanfic that I have deleted. Daryl's wife, her two brothers and two kids go searching for Daryl after the zombie apocalypse.
1. Chapter 1

The Georgia sun hung high in the sky, baking everything beneath it's golden rays. The people of Georgia, who were left, didn't seem to mind the heat. Not at one bit. The bugs chittered off their song in the kudzu infested woods. A car came to a halt on a lonely stretch of the gray ribbon known as the road. The driver pointed at two, smashed and burned cars and clicked the trunk open. He got out of the car while the man in the backseat talked to the woman sitting in the front seat.

"I'm sure Daryl is safe, Sara," said the man, sorrow filled his words. He glanced at the car seat next to him. Then the other way to a young boy. A sad expression on his face. "There is no way Daryl could leave two such beautiful children."

The driver strolled over to the wrecked, sun baked cars. An empty gas tank in his hands. She used the hem of her red and white gingham shirt to wipe away the tears that clouded her gray eyes. Sara's crying had been much more quiet since the end as to not scare her children anymore than they had been. "Ya think Merle has found 'im yet, Robert?" she spoke.

The driver disappeared down the hill on the side of the road. "If he had, I'd like to think that Merle took him to the hospital to see you," said Robert. "If he found 'im today, they're good country boys. They'll be able to track out down."

Sara nodded. "Where did Drayton go?"

"Damnit!" sneered Robert, opening the car door, setting a sneaked foot onto the hot pavement. "You stay here with the kids. I'll get his chili makin' ass back here!"

Robert soon saw that Drayton had found a gas station. Well, at least he wasn't piddling the fuck around. Drayton and Robert surveyed the land. Lots of cars. Lost of opportunities for gas. Lots of child's toys that made Drayton's heart sink. What if Daryl was dead?

Would his baby sister throw herself at the mercy of the dead? Something he'd rather not think about. Robert peeked into cars, in at the flies that buzzed around the dried up corpses. There was no gas anywhere though. From behind Robert and Drayton came the sound of shuffling foot steps. No way in hell was it their sister. She was wearing the cowboy boots Daryl got for her!

Shuffling would scuff them! And there was no way in hell Sara'd send Daryl Jr. down here all by himself. The shuffling came from a little blonde girl. Her eyes looked tired and hot. A festering sore sat upon her pale head. Part of jaw had been ripped off. Nothing they haven't seen before.

They'd usually take her out in a heart beat. The end was a new era of dog eat dog. They both patted themselves down as she quickened her shuffling pace. No weapons! Sara slid down the hill, Miranda in a sling and Daryl Jr following behind her. "Oh, my G-d!" hissed Sara. Her brothers were cornered without weapons.

Daryl Jr. raised a crossbow to his face and let an arrow shoot. Sending the arrow into the girl's head.


	2. A Simple Time…

"This a joke, uncle Bobby?" asked Daryl Jr in the truck as Uncle Bobby or Robert passed him a napkin. A boy's lunch of hamburgers and french fries, while Sara was in the hospital. In labor. "Mama's kiddin right?"

"Your mama nor your daddy would joke about this," said Drayton, downing a salt covered french fry. "You're a big brother today! Four days from now, you'll come home from your Uncle Merle's to a trailer filled with the screams of a tiny newborn."

Robert smacked Drayton's head with a grease coated hand. "It won't be that bad, kid," sneered Robert. "Not as bad as standing in your mama's hospital listenin to her howlin, spittin and a cursin at your daddy."

"How many times do you think she has said fuck you Daryl?" chuckled Drayton, downing a bite of hamburger. Neither of Daryl Jr's uncles cared what he heard. He'd hear the F bomb dropped more times in his life time than panties dropping for his dick in his life time. Sad but true.

Robert lolled his head back and let out a cackle. "Oh, a few thousand times?" Robert twisted around in his seat and looked at Daryl Jr. "Y'know, your mama dropped the F bomb, how many times Dray? Oh, I remember! 2,100 times when she was birthin you!"

"Yeah, but I had never seen a prouder man. Daryl was certainly standing like some prized dog dick that day," said Drayton. In his eyes, Daryl had every reason to be a proud man. "But how is it with mama, little Daryl?"

"Mama's good-she's good except she's havin' bad back pain but she said that comes with bein' pregnant," said Daryl Jr. "Mama said she had the same pains when she pregnant with me. Makes me wonder why she'd do it again."

"Well, if this is somethin your mama and daddy want bad enough, she'll put up with the pain. Easy. No questions asked," said Robert, getting the last drops of his RC Cola. Shaking the cola stained cubes this way and that.

"How come mama drops the F bomb about daddy?" asked Daryl Jr. He hated scooted to the edge of the seat and leaned forward to his uncles. The kid was curious that if his parent's loved each other, then why would she drop the F bomb about him?

"Because without your daddy, she wouldn't be in a shit ton of pain," smirked Drayton as Robert used his straw to find the remaining cola droplets, but only finding air. Sick, dry styrofoam air.

"If I ever get married, I'll never do that to my wife!" Daryl Jr. slammed back into his seat. He was a bit mad at his daddy for putting his mama into a whole bunch of pain, or a shit ton of pain as his uncle Drayton had said.

"One day, you'll find yourself a little girl willing to go through that pain for you, so you two can carry on the Dixon name," said Robert.

Sara arched her back as far as she could. It felt as if someone was standing on her hip bones and knocking into her lady bits with a sledge hammer. "DAARYYL!" she screamed. "DAARYYL FUCKING DIXON YOU ARE FUCKING DEAD!"

The doctor looked up at Sara from between her legs and his eyes smiled. "One more push, Mrs. Dixon!" he smiled from behind his mask. "I can see the head!"

Sara began to cry. The pain was too much. She needed Daryl. "I can't! I need drugs! I just can't! I have to wait for Daryl!"

The Doctor stood up, holding a screaming and bloody infant in his arms. Apparently the same Sara who could not push anymore had been pushing with those words coming from her mouth. "It's a girl! It's a girl, Mrs. Dixon!" beamed the doctor. "Congrats! A pretty, pink girl!"

He laid the screaming baby on her chest and a brand new set of tears began to flow forth from Sara's eyes.

"Shh. Shh. Welcome to the world, baby, I'm your mama. Shh. Shh. Shh. Just wait until you meet your daddy," she cooed. "You won't be able to shed a tear around him. He'll be there with a funny face, fresh diaper, your binky, a bottle, anythin and everythin."

The nurses watched and swooned. From how Sara sounded, Daryl sounded like a real white knight. "Day or night. You'll love that about him when I'm sick or your big brother is sick," she continued.


	3. Familiar Voices

The next few days, for Sara, were a blur. She remembered that Daryl came to visit her and Miranda Abigail Dixon. Sara could remember his giddy voice. "There's my two girls," Daryl had said. He had asked where is buddy was. With Merle. Daryl seemed happy to be back in the fatherhood chapter of having a newborn.

But he also talked about something dark. She shook her head, trying to remember. Well, whatever it was, there was something way more dark going on. One day, a nurse wheeled Miranda in and never came back to get her. Correction. She came back into the room to kill Sara and the baby. She wasn't quite sure if there was some sort of mind alerting disease in the hospital or if she had snapped or if she had become a zombie.

Sara was too afraid to try and escape the room with Miranda. She knew they'd probably die in this room. And who cared? No family came to save them. Family was probably dead or brain eaters now. Every day, Sara made sure she told Miranda of what an amazing men she had her in her life. Daryl Dixon.

Husband. Lover. Father. Daryl Dixon Jr. Brother. Son. A doting big brother when she was in the womb.

Told Miranda of her uncles and how special she would have been to them. That they had fussed over her while she had been in mama's tummy. First girl in a long while. But every day, the fire in her belly would return. The fire to find Daryl and Daryl Jr. To escape. Anything to see her son and husband again.

Sara glanced down at the sleeping newborn in her arms. "You wanna meet the other Dixons?" she asked. Sara knew she'd get no answer but she needed someone to talk to. A reason to do what she was going to. Miranda looked up at her with her olive green eyes. Sara had the best reason.

She tore open her room's door, a door that had been left shut for quite some time. Gurnies and chairs laid, over turned, in the hallway. Medical charts fluttered down the hall as if ghosts were sweeping them away. The only noise was the cooing of Miranda and the hum of the lights above. Sara came to a nurse's station and whipped up the phone. Dead. She allowed the hand set to clatter onto the desk.

Were Sara's son's video games right? Was this the zombie apocalypse? There was another wing and she walked towards it. Sara pushed the door open and both her and baby was greeted by the smell of decay and rot. The smell really upset Miranda into a fit a fussing. The body laying there had no torso. Back it up.

She hurried down the wing where her room was and noticed a wave of bullet holes in the walls. The waves and waves of sprayed blood. This was giving Daryl Jr's video games a run for their money. Ahead was a door, chained shut. In black, spray painted letters, were the words: Don't Open Dead Inside. Part of Sara, the part that was still a young, horny girl- in the days before getting knocked up and becoming a Dixon- wanted to peek inside at the zombies that she knew damn well were inside. The motherly part of her won over the young side.

Don't give the damn brain eaters a chance to eat Miranda. If Daryl is alive, he'll want to meet her. If he's zombie fodder, Miranda is the future. She walked past the door, ignoring the moaning and the glass shattering. Sara walked into the stairwell. She knew the maternity ward was eight floors up. If Sara wanted to leave, she had to go down.

It was dark. Darker than dark. But not as dark as the nights out in the woods behind her daddy's house. She could see pretty okay in the dark, specially since that's how Daryl Jr came to be. Sara didn't count how many floors she had gone down until she saw an exit sign. "This door has the possibility to allow you to meet your daddy."

She pressed open the door and brilliant white light flooded in, washing over mother and baby. Sara thumped her way down the loading dock's stairs. The metal felt hot and gooey under her bare feet. At the foot of the stairs, were white sheets, rolled in human shapes. Make shift body bags. Sara surpressed a gag for Miranda's sake. Blood stained every sheet as flies buzzed to and fro.

Body to body. Sampling each sweet taste of decay each corpse had to offer. Her feet touched the soft grass, she had officially left the hospital grounds. But seeing the road offered no hope. Cars were crashed and dead bodies lay everywhere. Every direction. Sara disappeared into the overgrown forest.

A smile grew on her face as she came upon the Dixon trailer. Sara tore open the door. "Daryl!" she cried. The trailer didn't seem bloody. There didn't seem to be a fight. But it seemed empty. "Daryl!"

Sara stumbled into the bedroom. No Daryl. "Daryl Jr? Junior!" she cried. "Fuck! Daryl! Junior!"

Neither of the boys seemed to be home. In her mind, they didn't seem alive. Sara laid Miranda on the sofa and sat next to her, where she broke down. "Daryl! Junior!" she screamed. Sara looked at her chainsaw. "I should just kill myself! It'd be a lot more fucking dignified than becoming zombie fodder!"

All of her carrying on had woken Miranda. She laid on the couch, crying just like mama. Calling Sara back into reality. She didn't get the luxury of offing herself. Sara had to take care of Miranda. She scooped up her daughter and held her close. "Mama won't leave you," Sara cooed.

"Do ya hear that?" hissed a voice.

"Sounds like a baby!" hissed another voice. "What's a walker doing with a baby?"

"Maybe it's Sara and our niece!"

Sara? Niece? Was that Robert and Drayton's voices? She stumbled out of the trailer. "Robert?" she called out. Needless to say, Sara was still out of it all but hearing familiar voices made her feel a whole hell of a lot better. "Drayton?"

A man walked towards Sara and she beamed. One of her brothers. Maybe it was even Daryl! Merle would be good too! A twig snapped from behind her. It was Robert! "Drayton! Drayton!" he called.

"Where is Daryl?" asked Sara. This was getting to be too much for her. Sara glanced up at her twin. "Where is my son, Bobby?"

"Drayton! You sumbitch! Our sister and niece are over here!" cried Robert.

Sara fell backwards into the cool grass onto her butt. Robert scooped up Miranda from her arms. Sara watched as Drayton jumped out and shot the man in the head and ran over to her and Robert. "Sara? Sara!"

"She asking about Daryl and Daryl Jr," said Robert.

"Sara, we have Daryl Jr," said Drayton. He helped her up to her feet. Sara seemed weak, this was too much for one day. "Sis, Junior is at home. Safe and sound."

Sara fainted.


End file.
